It feels like you’re in a coma, in an ever freezing hell. Half-numb, you remember being alive only when you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, moonshine, only a razor – blade cut away from absolution.

It tastes like miles of hot asphalt stuck to your mouth palate and you can’t refrain yourself to push your tongue there, licking it with its tip until it burns and you start to vomit stardust and rainbows of blood.

It sounds like the only thought you still have, began a killing spree and is chopping to death all your hopes and expectations. And the chainsaw-sound it makes while tearing apart the last and faintest dream you had for a better life never stops.

It looks like comics, everything, in black and white, drawn by a drooling lunatic. Humans pass by and you see through them, as they are plastic cans of gas and water. They watch you, but you only see them as shadows dancing before your eyes, making sounds and doing things that are beyond your comprehension. The veil of puss and guts that rises in front of you, the stench of your own corpse, the shaking of your fleshless bones, the agonizing screams filling your brain, they all prevent you from being on the other side, where spring arrives in slow-motion and daffodils blossom shyly. Incarcerated in your death-row cell block, it’s only you who you are seeing, in the corner of a dirty mirror, stained with your blood.

Time froze. And space stands still. Everything is silent except for that chainsaw in your head that goes on and on, so loud you want to rip your eyes out, stick your fingers through your skull and push the off button forever.

And there’s the pain. You feel like a wounded animal, trapped in a cage of ribs, among the dead leaves of a heart.

Sometimes you wish you were swept away by the darkness, fall in its embrace and let go of everything that means sanity. But you still want to live. Yet. Not for long. Just for now. Against the blizzard of thousands needles pinned in your every fiber, every nerve, you still crawl from one corner of the cell to the other. Just to feel your muscles twitching. You talk loud, only to hear yourself and whatever looney tune is there to listen. Your voice it’s cracked and low, no pitch, just a faint sound of desperation and decay. You tell yourself you had found light so many times before, you’ll find it this time too. But this time is different and every time is harder. This time, light shines away from you, hiding in the depth of your nightmares and the creepy corners of this tomb. This time, you’re not every junkie’s happy ending. You’re only the ending.

You’re here on your knees again, at the gates, nails scratching the rough ground and the muddy round ponds your tears break into the dirty floor stare back at you laughing. The road ends here, they whisper. You clench your teeth in the iron bars, trying to get up. But this is the break point. This is where day turns into night, where angels become demons, where air becomes sulfur, where everything you looked for becomes everything you’re running away from. This is the final station. Beyond this point, there’s only the void and the blackness. And the monsters that wait for you, ready to welcome your soul into the abyss. You already summoned them. Violence, recklessness, coldness. You hear the bells toll and you know the hour of your last confession has arrived.

This is withdrawal.

You wish for your poison every single second as you live and breathe. But it’s not longer there. And will not ever be. You are denial. You are anger. You are torture. You are on the twisted rollercoaster of mixed emotions and bad decisions. You’re Hell’s prodigy child. They’ll give you an Oscar for your entire career. You are a gun pointed to your head, the ghost that haunts your mortal shell, the burnt picture of what you used to be in a passed life.

You’d trade your soul with the Devil for another fix. For the ultimate fix. For the dose that would keep you alive as long as you’re meant to. The dose that would bring you back outside in the sun.

But then again, what soul is left there to trade for?

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